The Marriage Bet
by ghostofadrunkensailor
Summary: Kai bets Grif and Simmons that they can't pretend to be a couple for the next four weddings that are coming up. They're both determined to pull it off, but get a little too deep into the ruse. Afterall, you know what people say about becoming the mask... But that just goes to show that Grif and Simmons are willing to do anything for 100 bucks.
1. Place Your Bets

If you need to know anything about Grif, his entire personality boils down to two things: he won't do anything actually productive, but will do anything if it's a bet. It didn't help that most bets ended with pain or vomiting or both. But Grif was as steel-willed and stupid as people could get, especially if it meant an extra 50 bucks.

Which was how he ended up faking a marriage with Simmons for three and half weeks in the middle of wedding season. It was the beginning of June when a friend of his proposed (pun intended) the idea. Grif said he would never get married, but every season he would joke around the thought with his sister. Until one season, when yet another friend pulled Kai and Grif to the side to announce her engagement.

"Well, I guess that means that I am officially the only single person out of everyone I know." Kai snarked as she took a sip of her beer.

Grif furrowed his brow. "Wait, what about me?"

"What about you? You've got Simmons, don't you?"

Grif snorted in disbelief, but failed to look chill when he hesitated to reply. "You know I can't stand Simmons."

"Then why do you two go to every wedding together?"

Grif sipped the last of his beer, and walked to the fridge to look for more. "It's a routine we have. I pretend to bring him back a second plate of food, and then eat it along the way. You can't imagine how many cubes of ham and cheese I can scarf in 30 seconds."

"Yeah, I know. It's somehow disgusting and kind of admirable." She finished off her own beer, and stared at it for a second. As if she saw something devious on the front label, she grinned darkly. "Say, are you gonna go to that wedding with him, then."

"You know it. Gotta get my processed food fix." He found another beer in the back of the fridge and popped it's top.

"How about a bet?" Grif stopped the bottle and inch from his mouth.

"I'm game." He smirked. "What are we talking?"

Kai paused, and held up a hand. "Two seconds." She shouted into another room. "Simmons! Get in here!"

Simmons entered the kitchen, and Kai's grin got wider. "I have a bet for the both of you." Simmons sighed, but didn't leave. "100 dollars each."

Both of their ears perked. That was larger than any bet Grif had ever taken. Grif set down his beer. "Now I'm really game."

Kai held up four fingers. "There are four weddings going on in the next couple of months. And since you two are so good at cheating people out of horderves, I want you to make it a little more realistic." She paused for dramatic effect. "All you have to do is pretend you're married, or engaged, or banging. Whatever. In a relationship. For this wedding season." She crossed her arms smugly.

It still hadn't hit Simmons fully by the time that Grif said yes, but when it did, it hit hard. "Wait, what does that mean? Like, act like a couple? Tricking people for extra food is one thing, but isn't this a little too far?"

Kai pulled out two twenty dollar bills. "I'll give this to you if you start tomorrow."

Simmons had his bags packed three hours later, and was wheeling them into Grif's apartment not thirty minutes after that.


	2. So This Is How It Starts

The first week was somehow the easiest and worst for both Grif and Simmons. Easy because, they had stayed with each other for other reasons, so much so that there was already room for Simmons's stuff (and some of Simmons's stuff already there). But it progressively became the worst as it sunk in that they really were in it for the long haul.

"I think I'm still processing how stupid this actually is." Simmons laughed under his breath as he packed the rest of his clothes into the drawer he had already claimed long ago. "I mean, could we really act like a couple for a whole two months?" He asked Grif as he put the suitcase in the closet, pushing it past the old shirts that Simmons left at Grif's house, and never bothered to take home.

Grif had a mouthful of the chinese food that they had gotten on the way back. "It might be a little weird, but a hundred bucks is a lot of money in my world. By the way, here's your low sodium teriyaki chicken." He passed over a different, slightly soggy package of food.

"Thanks, uhm..." Simmons stopped himself from saying something else, but eventually picked his words back up from the floor. "So, uh, should we have pet names for each other, or anything?"

"Like what?" Grif eloquently spat out bits of food as he spoke.

"I don't know, like..." Simmons scrambled for words. "I mean, I always thought 'babe' sounded sweet."

Grif snorted. "Really? You're gonna call me 'babe'?"

Simmons huffed, his face a lightish red of embarrassment. "Hey, I'm making an effort." He started picking at the package of food, and sat down on Grif's bed. "Besides, what were you gonna call me?"

"'Bro'."

"Just bro? Don't you have any other ideas?"

"Variations of 'bro'."

Right, Simmons thought. This wasn't going to be easy, was it? If Simmons was really honest with himself, nothing was ever easy if it involved Grif. "Maybe we should try taking this seriously."

Grif gave him an odd look. "I am taking this seriously bro."

"Stop that." Simmons had been picking at his food for the entire time, hardly eating any. He placed it on the bed spread and laid back with his arms stretched out to his sides.

"Hey, be careful with that. I don't want the sheets to smell like soy sauce."

Simmons rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "Grif, you eat food in bed almost every day. Your mattress is half cotton and half crumbs." He felt a weight on the other side of the bed, and saw a mess of brown curls laid down in the corner of his eye. He kicked one foot, remarking at how he used to lay with his feet dangling off of a hotel bed after a long day of enduring ceremonies and class reunions. This type of relaxing did feel familiar to him on some level.

So why was he so nervous? Grif spoke up, in that sleepy voice that he got after gorging himself on food. "We don't have to sleep in the same bed if you don't want to." That was a little relieving to Simmons, but he loathed to think of sleeping on Grif's battered futon.

"I don't mind. As long as you don't fall in love with me." Grif chuckled at that, and Simmons felt the tension in his gut lessen. He was just overthinking it, afterall. He sat up, and picked up the carton of food that had gone cold.

Grif shifted under the blanket, about to fall asleep. "I'll try." He yawned. "Hey, I'm gonna turn in. I'll see you in the morning."

Simmons was at the door when he replied. "Alright, I'll do the same in a little bit. Night, Grif."

He was two steps out of the door when he heard Grif murmur. "Night, sweetheart." Simmons laughed, but he got to the kitchen and let out the breath he had been holding.

This was going to be much, much harder than Simmons first realized.

Grif snores. It was one of the more aggravating things about Grif, because Simmons knew Grif couldn't control it. And he refused to wear those nose strips, convinced that only nerds wore them. So Simmons had to suffer in silence for the first few times that he had slept over at Grif's house. Earplugs were as important to Simmons as air and water after that.

So it makes sense that he wouldn't have heard Grif get out of bed the next morning. He rubbed his eyes as he smelled something cooking in the kitchen.

He strolled into the kitchen to find Grif cooking, which was a rare enough sight. He was used to leftovers and microwaved food in the morning. "Good morning."

Grif smirked. "Morning."

"What's all this?" Simmonds gestured to the stove and dangerously high stack of pancakes.

"Isn't it obvious, Simmons?" He turned to Simmons and grinned.

After a short silence, Simmons replied. "...No?"

Grif sighed, and flipped over another pancake. "It's our honeymoon!"

Simmons started to grin as well. "Oh, jeez, come on."

"Hey, I gotta make an effort too." Grif grabbed a can of whipped cream that was probably meant for the pancakes and filled his mouth with it.

Simmons pulled up a chair. "Yeah? Are you gonna clean all this up, too?"

Grif made a face and waved his hand around dismissively. "Ehhhh..."

"That's what I figured." He rubbed his neck, and looked outside the window. The view from Grif's place wasn't awful, but there wasn't much to it either. Just a small forest with a large, chain link fence. As he was questioning why someone needed to put a fence around a forest, a plate slid in front of him. It was piled high enough to be put in a cereal commercial, and covered in a few strawberries drowning in whipped cream. He smiled despite how odd he still felt. "This looks awesome, man."

Grif took his own plate and sat across from him. "Man? What happened to 'babe'?" He joked.

Simmons let out a nervous laugh. "I'm still adjusting. I'll get into the swing of things eventually, 'sweetheart'." He put emphasis on the last word, and Grif raised his eyebrows as he started to dig into his pancakes. The ate in a comfortable silence, and when they finished Grif took something out of his pocket and slid it across the table.

It looked like a pamphlet of some sort, and Simmons picked it up and gave it a curious once-over. "What's this?"

"Just some new museum that opened a month or so back. I thought it would fit pretty well."

Simmons looked confused. "Fit well? For what?"

Grif shrugged. "For our date."

Simmons tried not to choke on the last of his pancakes, and looked up at Grif. He was beaming. "A date."

"How else are we gonna announce our relationship?"

"Oh boy. Ooooh boy." And that was all the Simmons could say before everything really clicked into place.


	3. Art Is What You Make Of It, I Guess

But of course Simmons agreed to go. He did give a weird look when Grif offered to pay for the tickets- "you know you have to act believable"-, but accepted it anyways. The sky was clear, and Simmons couldn't help his excitement. It wasn't often that he did go to museums, he never seemed to have the time or energy to go. He paused at the door, and reached into his pocket. He pulled out his phone, before shutting it off. Grif looked at him strangely. "I just didn't want to get distracted." Bet or not, Simmons did find himself wanting to enjoy today.

Grif nodded, and turned his phone off as well. They went inside, and found it nearly full with patrons. Everyone stared at different pieces of art, quietly chatting and moving on. It would have been a serene experience for Simmons, if Grif had actually stopped talking.

"Look at that guys face in the background." Grif pointed at a shocked looking man in the back of one oil painting.

Simmons relented this time, and looked where Grif was pointing. "He looks like he just realized he's in a painting."

Grif chuckled. "He's like, 'Oh god help me I can't move! This is terrible!'"

Simmons snorted loudly, earning a few dark looks from other guests. "'Oh, why couldn't I have been in a Jackson Pollock painting?'" They wouldn't stop giggling until they moved to another hallway.

Simmons stood in front of another picture with a pensive look on his face. "But what does it mean?"

Grif paused before looking confused. "What?"

"I just don't know what the artist was trying to convey." Simmons stressed the words again, and held his chin like he was trying to be a serious critic.

"Simmons, it's a tree."

"But what does it mean?" Simmons stressed the words again, and Grif couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. "It could be a tree, it could be something entirely else."

"Wha- Simmons. This is a photograph."

Simmons held his pose for a few seconds before a goofy smile appeared on his face. "I mean, you don't know that."

"It says the camera information in this little label here."

"It could be a picture of something that looks close to a tree but isn't."

"I swear to God, Simmons." He tried to keep himself from breaking into laughter again, but it wasn't easy. He looked over at Simmons, glad he had chosen a museum. At boring as Simmons seemed, it was a testament to him that they could find the humor in anything. He looked back at the tree, and smirked. "Do you think this is the same guy that was in that other painting?"

Simmons laughed out loud. "'Oh no, now I'm a tree! This day is just the worst!'"

Grif's laughter was contagious once it started. As they tried to calm themselves down, something caught Grif's eye. "Hey, look over there."

Simmons, still giddy, looked past Grif. "Is that Donut?" Simmons then remembered why they were here, and stiffened up. "Hey, maybe we should go before he sees us."

"Why?" Grif asked, before he finally got it. "Ah, hmm. Maybe. We're almost out of art to look at anyways, let's just- He's coming over here." Grif held a hand up to wave at Donut, who had seen them already. Simmons choked down the lump in his throat. This was just a casual thing, afterall. It's not like Donut would suspect anything.

"Hey guys!" Donut was grinning wide. "Here to enjoy the art? You know, I never thought you'd be one for museums, Grif."

"Well, you know. It sounded like fun. And Simmons likes them." Simmons himself was closer to dying on the spot, as he heard Grif start to explain to Donut what was going on.

"Oh, don't you two worry. Your sister told me EVERYTHING." Grif stopped moving altogether. "And I am SO happy for you! I shouldn't say that I saw it coming, but..." He trailed off, a smug smile on his face.

"She did, did she?" Grif replied flatly, and Simmons kept himself from laughing at Grif's shock.

"So! I'm convinced that I was supposed to see you two today! To give you both advice and support for the future!" Donut ignored how uncomfortable both of them looked at this idea and kept going. "But first, we need to announce it!"

"Well, yes, but me and Grif were thinking-" Simmons tried to interrupt but Donut wasn't stopping for anything.

"I know, you want to but you don't know where to start. Gosh, I got here at just the right time. Now, let's get a picture of the cute couple!" Simmons patted his pocket, and remembered his phone was off.

"Oh no, both out phones are off... How unfortunate..." Simmons was slowly trying to back up, motioning to Grif that they should REALLY get going before things got worse.

Donut swung his arms around Grif and Donut, and pulled out his own phone. "No worries, Donut is here to save the day! Smile!" He didn't even look at the photo and he stashed his phone in his pocket before either of them could take it and set it on fire.

Simmons pinched the bridge of his nose, and looked at the clock on the wall. "Oh, look at the time! I almost completely forgot about that very important thing that we have to do soon." He grabbed Grif's shoulder, and raised his eyebrows at him.

"Oh, right! The really important thing that we can't miss, how could I forget? Alright Donut, we'll see you later."

"Okay! If you guys need anything, let me know." He cupped his face with one hand and sighed blissfully. "Ah, to be young and in love."

Simmons pulled Grif away before he retched at the gesture. they did laugh about it in the car later, on their way back to Grif's place. "Do you think he'll have our wedding invitations planned by the end of this season?"

"I think he already has a stack of them printed." Simmons replied. He hesitated to mention something else, and instead focused on checking on the phone he had just turned back on.

Grif picked it up instead. "I know we were gonna try and tell people we were 'together'," Grif enunciated the air quotes, "I just got distracted."

"It's okay. Besides," Simmons smiled at his phone. "I had fun."

"Yeah?" Grif perked up. "Well, then I guess it wasn't a failure. And hey, we did tell one person. Kindof. All we need to do is be careful, make a few facebook posts, and we're 2 steps away from 200 dollars. After we- wait, are you okay?"

Simmons had been staring at his phone's screen without moving, but now had a hand covering his eyes. He shook his head a bit, and moved his hand to read the screen once more. "Donut just posted that picture."

"And?" Grif asked nervously.

"And we no longer have to make our relationship facebook official." Simmons sighed through his nose as he read the very sappy photo caption. "It's got 34 likes." He didn't have the nerve to read the twelve comments below it.

Grif snorted again. "Godammit, Donut." Grif's phone was still off, and he wondered if he could get away with keeping it off so he wouldn't have the read the texts that he was most likely getting. "Should we still change our statuses?"

"Eh, later." Simmons shut the screen off and leaned back in his seat. "Let's go home."

"You're not worried about it?"

"I'm taking a page from your book: I'll deal with it later."

Grif glanced over at Simmons again and almost looked proud. "Wow, it's only been one day and I'm already a bad influence on you." And they rode back in a tired, comfortable silence.


	4. Chicken Soup For The Possessed Soul

Simmons was, suffice to say, a little disappointed about the amount of calls they got the week after that "date". Or, he was disappointed at the lack of calls. He checked his phone, before tossing it on the counter, refusing to look at it again.

Simmons searched around the kitchen for food, and mentally patted himself on the back. The apartment was much easier on the eyes since he had started looking after it. And he expected junk food containers lying amongst empty soda cans in a way that Simmons could only describe as its own ecosystem. He just didn't think he'd see so much other types of food with it.

Simmons never really heard Grif talk about how much he liked to cook. He honestly seemed happy scoring food off of parties or taking the easiest way out when snacking. But his cabinets were filled with expensive jellies and coffee, and the pancakes they had were homemade. He had asked about it once, and only got a response like "You have to cook to eat.". But he didn't complain when he kept waking up to the smell of a fried eggs or blueberry pancakes (breakfast food seemed to be his favorite, and it was growing on Simmons).

Actually, there was more than just Grif's cooking that was growing on him. He had woken up in the mid-afternoon today, and done nothing productive. Grif was gone for most of the day, no doubt slacking through his last day of work for the week. Simmons was glad for once that he worked longer days; the extra day off was a nice perk.

But it was late at night, and Simmons was ready for Grif to shamble into the apartment and pass out. Instead, he moved into the living room with his head held high. Simmons raised an eyebrow at him "What's with that look?"

"I'll tell you what this look is." And he pulled a DVD out of his pocket- wait. Was that?

"No, no. Grif, we talked about this." They had talked about it. Grif constantly wanted to watch that god-forsaken movie, and now Simmons wasn't sure if he could stop him this time. "It's not even going to be good. Do you really want to waste your time with this?"

"I don't care." He didn't. There was unmovable determination as he turned the movie on.

"Whatever. Sure. We'll watch this, and you'll see how terrible it is." This was something that Simmons and Grif argued about, which was their taste in movies. Usually, Simmons did think that Grif had awful taste in what he liked to watch, but this movie was difference.

"Listen, what is with you and horror movies?"

"They never live up to the hype!" Simmons snapped back. Yeah, 'hype'.

"I think you're just scared." Grif grinned as he skipped past the commercials. The movie had been out for a year now, so there wasn't anything they hadn't seen before.

"I'm not scared of a poorly made movie." He was. They sat through the first few minutes of the film. For a cheap film, it had alot of build-up. Simmons steeled himself, and felt a shade of pride as he realized he might be able to fake his way through the film as long as he looked away at the right times.

That was, until the screen shifted fast and the music blared. "That was NOT necessary!" Simmons shouted. Grif laughed at Simmons, who had jumped up to sit on the top of the couch.

"You feel safe up there?"

"Yes, shut up." The movie continued on as if the jumpscare had never happened, and the build-up only made it worse. Simmons steel-will had turned to crumpled-up aluminum foil, and he slid off the top of the couch and as far into the back cushion as he could. There was another loud piano chord, and Simmons didn't look to see what it was this time. He did, however, see Grif jolt and then look at Simmons. He giggled. "You just jumped."

Grif brushed him off. "Pfft, yeah. Whatever." He folded his arms in front of his chest, a nervous look on his face. "I just wasn't expecting it." Simmons giggled again. "It's not even that scary."

"See? It's not as great as you thought it was gonna be." Simmons had his knees tucked in close to himself. "Cheap scares and bad special effects."

Towards the end of the movie, Grif and Simmons found themselves as close as possible in the middle of the couch, with every pillow and blanket they could find shielding themselves. As the credits finally rolled, Grif chuckled. "That was lame."

"You screamed twice."

"So did you!" He replied quickly. Simmons sighed, and reached for his phone in his pocket. Except, it wasn't in his pocket. Simmons breathed in sharply through his nose. "My phone is in the kitchen."

"So go get it."

Simmons's spine tingled as his paranoia manifested into a terrible demon that existed only in the dark kitchen. "I can't."

"What? Just go get your- Wait." Grif got a wide grin on his face. "You're scared."

"This is why I don't like horror movies!" Simmons whined, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "There's gonna be a monster or a murderer and it's gonna kill me."

"Nothing is going to kill you, dude."

Simmons pouted. "Then go get my phone."

Grif hesitated. "W-why should I have to get it?"

"See? You're scared too!"

Grif rubbed the back of neck, before letting his arm rest behind Simmons. "Alright, it got to me. Look's like your phone belongs to that demon now."

Simmons leaned into Grif, letting the TV loop the movie's menu screen over and over. "Yep." After a few seconds, the looping was already irritating, so he switched it off. "Hey, do you think it's blogging on some sort of demonic internet right now?"

Grif shifted backwards, letting himself rest on the mounds of pillows around them. "It's probably talking about how wimpy we are."

Simmons giggled again, and relaxed a bit more. "It's taking a picture of us that's like, 'these losers won't leave the couch after one scary movie'." He smiled to himself, and the silence around him started to fog up his brain.

Grif looked down from his own phone, to see Simmons asleep on him. He poked Simmons face, trying to wake him up. "Hey, go to bed."

"Nnnnno." Simmons said drowsily.

Grif contemplated pushing him off, or tossing him on the bed in the other room. But since both of those things required Grif to do something, he opted for throwing a blanket over the both of them. He shifted again, and switched off the only lamp that was still on in the room. In the darkness, they couldn't deny that they felt just a bit safer. Just a bit better.


	5. Tieing The Knot

They didn't need to get fitted for the first wedding since the bet started. After the last year of half of their friends consistently tying the knot, they found that buying clothes that only looked expensive was cheaper than renting a suit for every wedding.

Regardless, Grif complained each time he had to put it all on. "Can't I wear the tuxedo shirt again?"

"There is a dress code for a reason." Simmons fixed his tie in the mirror.

"What, to look stuffy and like you have your life in order? Babe, everybody already knows how I live." Calling each other things like 'babe' was becoming more commonplace. They both figured that if they got used to saying it alone, they wouldn't flinch in a crowd of people. Somehow, Simmons doubted it would work as well as they thought.

"Well, we can at least try to lie about our lives, just like everyone else."

"We already are." Grif gestured to the air around him like the bet was substituting the air they both breathed.

Simmons sighed, playing with his cuff. "About that... I don't think it's going to be easy."

Grif pulled an actual tie from a box (it was covered in tiny slices of pizza). "It's only weird if you make it weird, dude."

"Th-this is weird!" Simmons stammered. "Pretending is pretending, and we are getting dangerously close to someone throwing a bouquet of flowers at us!"

Grif snickered. "Don't tell me..."

Simmons turned from the mirror to Grif, the tie around his neck limp and crooked. "Oh, what's so funny now?"

"You're not falling for me, are you?" Grif asked, amused at himself.

"Not likely." Simmons reply was surprisingly quick. "It's hard enough pretending to be in love with you." He stared at Grif seriously, before his gaze fell back down to Grif's ridiculous tie.

Grif threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright. I mean, I'm a absolute catch and you have no taste, but alright. To each their own." He checked the clock on the wall. "We should get going if we want to arrive early enough for me to figure out where they're setting up all the food."

Simmons sighed again. He gestured his hand at Grif's pizza slice tie. "At least fix your tie."

Grif frowned at him. "There's nothing wrong with my tie."

"Everything is wrong with your tie."

"Hey, it's tied, isn't it?" It wasn't.

Simmons groaned angrily. "Jesus, this is gonna bother me all night." He walked over to Grif and started fiddling with it. "Hold still."

Grif didn't move, but rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter."

"You have to look presentable." Simmons moved closer to fix the tie, trying his best not to focus on how close he was to his pretend-boyfriend.

"It's got pizza all over it, man. And hopefully, there will be actual pizza on it by the end of tonight." Grif stopped talking, and glanced at Simmons face. It was concentrating carefully, and hovering closer as he adjusted it under his jacket. "Are you sure you aren't falling in love with me?"

Simmons fingers slipped for a second at the question, and he kicked himself for it. "I'm pretty sure I would know if I was falling in love with you." Simmons also knew that there would be a lot of anguished screaming if that ever happened.

"Just checking."

He finished fixing the tie, and looked up proudly. His faced changed, and he smirked. "You sure you're not falling for me?"

"You know my true love is food."

"Fair enough. Let's get this wedding over with."

Simmons was starting to get legitimately pissed off at the other wedding guests. It was comfortable for a while, the ceremony is easy when only a selected few are supposed to talk in the first place. He had expected questions after, and congratulations. That wasn't what made him uncomfortable. They were there, and Simmons took it well. Grif had disappeared almost immediately after everyone was allowed to get food. He had expected that as well, that also wasn't the reason why he wanted to leave the party early.

There were so many stares. People he knew well, others he barely remembered. They all gave him knowing smiles and dreamy eyes, no doubt from the 'great' news. Hours of weighted glances and quiet, excited giggles soured his mood and he fidgeted at his table. What made it worse was the fact that he could just be paranoid. Ironically, it made him want to talk to Grif just so he had someone to complain to. So he got up from the table, and headed for any table of food. He mingled, or was forced to mingle, as he tried to find the one person that was supposed to be next to him for this night.

When he couldn't find him at any of the tables, he felt his frustration peak, and collapse in the same instant as he heard his voice from behind the a kitchen door. He pushed it inwards slowly, and popped his head in to see Grif laughing with a waiter and stuffing his face with leftover horderves. Grif noticed Simmons, and waved him inside. "It's fine, everything's starting to slow down." He turned to the waiter again. "That's Richard."

Simmons chuckled softly. "It's so weird not calling each other by our last names."

The waiter raised an eyebrow at both of them. "You used to do that?"

"Still do, sometimes." Grif said through a mouthful of shrimp. "We're like football players but dating."

"Yeah, because I play ALL the sports." Simmons quipped. Grif laughed, and offered over a plate of cheese cubes. "So, how did you get back here? Other than the obvious." He pointed with a cheese cube at the whole kitchen.

"Actually, I know a few of the waiters from the weddings last year." He twirled a toothpick in his fingers. "Figured I'd come back and bother them."

Grif grinned at the waiter, who shook his head and smiled back. "Anyone with a pizza tie is good in my books."

For Simmons, the prospect of staying back here was much more appealing than sitting at a table by himself. "Is it alright to stay here?"

He gave an unsure face. "Probably. I don't really care, so." He shrugged. "As long as you guys don't start making out back here, then I'm good."

"No promises." Grif said cheekily. Simmons brushed him off.

"Come on, you're too busy making eyes at those cakes over there."

"I'll share one with you."

Simmons's eyes widened. "I think that's the worst lie I've ever heard from you." They were both grinning despite the bickering.

The waiter was also smiling. "Wow, you guys are really cute together." Simmons was taken aback at that, but the waiter had moved to leave the kitchen before he could respond.

Grif looked a bit strange as well. "I thought this was going to be harder to do."

Now Simmons really could have laughed aloud. "It has. Do you know how much idle bullshit conversation I had to go through? I've had enough small talk to last me a month."

Grif looked down, guiltily. "Yeah, I kindof ran off, didn't I?"

Simmons sighed, for what felt like the tenth time tonight. "It would've helped if you had been there."

"Sorry." He looked up, and leaned in towards Simmons. "Hey, how about we both go out there and I'll back you up."

Simmons hesitated, not ready for the stares to come back, even if he did have Grif for support. "Let's wait a minute. I'm not ready to start talking about the weather again."

"Don't let them rain on your parade."

Simmons pushed Grif away from himself, anger on his face as Grif laughed his ass off. "You're insufferable." He tried to stay angry, but the laughter eventually broke him, and he smiled.

Grif finally stopped laughing, and threw an arm around Simmons's shoulders. "Aww, you know you love me."

He was about to give a curt retort when he noticed Grif's wide smile. He didn't know why exactly, but he couldn't bring himself to bring down Grif's mood. So he tried to laugh dismissively, and Grif glanced. His gazed stayed for a few more seconds than necessary, and Simmons tilted his head a bit in confusion. "You okay?"

"Ah, yeah." Grif looked down again, and Simmons was filled with the same foreign feeling that was keeping him from teasing Grif. It was filling his head, and it sounded almost exactly like his own anguished screaming.

Simmons was starting to realize just how much of an idiot he truly was.


	6. Safe Winter Driving Is Snow Joke

Simmons realized about two hours into one of his weekly tv-show binges that he wasn't actually watching it at all. Sure, he had clicked from one episode to another, but he was damned if he tried to remember what went on in the last four episodes he had just sat through. It was then that Simmons also realized he had a bigger problem that wasn't going to be fixed with television marathons.

So he might have the smallest crush on Grif. It's not that weird, and he was obviously overreacting. You heard of friends that crushed on each other more often than not, so he just HAD to be overreacting. Or he was in denial, which meant that the more he thought about it, the worse it would get for him. In all honesty, you pick your friends because of things you like about them. And it's the same way with crushes, albeit to a more exaggerated extent. Why was he getting bent out of shape about it? The "crush" might not even last. So it isn't that big of a deal.

He still hadn't paused Netflix. Simmons stopped his own cycle of dangerous thoughts, and shut the laptop. As he did, the mail arrived. He frowned, and checked his phone. The mailman was at least ten minutes late today. He wondered if the snow was bad enough to slow them down, and opened his messenger without thinking.

[Hey, how's it going?]

He rubbed his face, sprawling himself across the sofa. A minute later, his phone pinged again.

[Im okay, might be home late]

[How much snow is outside?]

Two minutes went by in worrying silence, until he got two more messages.

[not a lot] [i can make it]

Simmons frowned again, and walked over to the one window in the apartment. There was at least four inches of snow on the ground already, and it was coming down even faster than he had expected. He fumbled with the phone again.

[Don't go out I'll come get you]

No response. Ten minutes went by as Simmons paced around the apartment, repeatedly checking his phone. The snowing refused to slow, and the cars that passed by got less frequent as it fell. They shared one car, and Grif had it. There's only such much he could do if Grif did get stuck on the highway. He texted Grif again, and knew his brain was going to spiral like before. He instead told himself that if Grif could text back, he could call for help.

As Simmons talked himself down, he rummaged through the kitchen. He nearly dropped the cereal box when Grif called him. He scrambled to pick it up, not hiding the worry in his voice. "Hey! Are you okay?"

"Yes, and no." Grif's voice sounded weary and annoyed.

"What do you mean?" he replied.

"Well, I made it about five miles out, and broke down."

"Where are you?" Simmons pulled on his jacket, ready to bang on any neighbor's door just to get help.

"I'm at a gas station. It sounds like the snow isn't going to last for more than another hour, but I can't go anywhere right now."

"You should have just stayed at work! I would have gotten you."

"With what car?"

"I would have stolen one!" Simmons replied, only half-joking. He sighed, and leaned back against the wall. "Don't go anywhere until it stops, and someone clears the roads."

"Yeah." The call then went stale, and Grif laughed nervously. "That was pretty scary, when I was driving. I didn't think it would get that bad that fast."

Simmons hummed in agreement. "I know what you mean." He then spoke in a softer voice. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Heh, me too." There was another stale silence. "Okay, well, I'm sure you're busy-"

"Busy watching mindless TV." Simmons cut him off in a snarky tone. "I'm not really doing anything."

Grif hesitated to reply. "Then, could you stay on the phone?"

Simmons blinked, and walked back into the living room. "Uh, sure." He plugged his phone in, and laid back on the sofa. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, just bored out here." His voice seemed happier, and Simmons smiled. "Thanks."

They talked like that until the snow stopped, talking about food and the weather and passing cars that were trying their damndest to drive through the snow. As they ended the call, Simmons made sure to tell Grif to be careful at least three times. He ended the call, placed his overheating phone on the coffee table. The snow outside had stopped all the traffic, making a muffled spot in space around the apartment. He shifted onto his side, tension that he didn't realize he had lifting from his body. He opened the laptop again, and put on a show he didn't care about. Within a few minutes, he laid close enough to unconsciousness, that he didn't hear the door to the apartment open.

He was a few drowsy seconds away from drifting off when he felt the freezing touch of death poke him in the cheek. He jumped, eyes snapping open. He looked up to see Grif's grinning, flushed face. "Christ, Grif. Not cool."

Grif giggled. "Actually, it's VERY cool." Simmons groaned as Grif took off his wet coat, tossing it onto a nearby chair. He leaned over the couch, his hands reaching for Simmons's face.

Simmons squawked, sitting up quickly. "Get your icicle fingers away from me!" He grabbed the hands with his own, and glanced at them. "I'm surprised you don't have frostbite. Why didn't you take gloves?"

"Forgot 'em." he said, before tilting his head in amusement. "So, are we holding hands now, or...?"

Simmons realized he still had Grif's fingers in his grasp, and let them go. "I was just keeping them from my face."

"Uh-huh, sure." Grif fell forward onto the couch. He stretched, limbs falling in every direction around him. "Hey, thanks for staying on the phone earlier. I think I might have died of boredom if I was just stranded alone in that snowstorm."

"Pretty sure you would have died of hypothermia first. And you're welcome. Just don't do dumb stuff like that again. You're going to give me a heart attack." Grif chuckled again. "What now?"

"Oh, nothing." He turned away from Simmons, looking at the laptop that, yet again, hadn't been paused. "You're just really adorable sometimes."

Simmons reasoned with himself. Alright. Just the smallest, tiniest, most miniscule crush wouldn't hurt anyone, would it? He could handle this.

I mean, he couldn't, but he could try.


	7. Romance Isn't Dead, But It Needs A Break

Imagine you had an allergic reaction to someone very close to you. Your first instinct is to hide it, to keep them from finding out. Your skin may burn, or you might get an upset stomach, but every time they notice it you put the blame on something else. Afterall, how terrible it is for you would pale in comparison to how bad it would be for them to find out it's their fault. In many ways, this is similar to finding out you have a crush on one of your closest friends. Either way, it's not fun for anyone.

Simmons had pretended to have the cold for three days now, but he couldn't keep Grif away for very long. Especially not when they were living in the same apartment. And honestly, it wasn't hard for Simmons to fake illness. There was a fever there, and he had more than one incident where his stomach tied itself in knots if he so much as saw Grif smirk. The problem itself laid in the worse he was "sick", the closer Grif got.

"At least eat something." Grif nagged. Dear lord, it was worse than he thought. Grif never nagged him, that wasn't how it worked. But Simmons hadn't eaten much that entire day, and didn't feel like trying to. Was Simmons actually sick? Was he making himself sick over this? Nobody could tell.

All he really understood was that he felt like he was going to throw up, and didn't know if Grif was helping or hurting that feeling. "I don't want to."

Grif gave him a weary look, which Simmons matched with one of his own. "You're not going to get any better like this."

He rolled over on the couch, away from Grif. "I'll be fine."

He heard Grif sigh through his nose. "You would have been fine if you hadn't shoveled yesterday."

I only shoveled so I wouldn't have to look at your face, Simmons thought to himself. That, and the heat that came from looking Grif's dumb face was irritating enough that breathing heaps of winter air felt like a blessing. "...not like you would have done it anyway."

"Yeah, because it was a perfectly good excuse not to go into work. Besides, now you've made your fever worse."

Simmons huffed. "I don't have a fever."

"Uh-huh, and I'm a Jedi." He reached over and placed the back of his hand on Simmons's forehead. "Jesus, you're hotter than you were ten minutes ago!"

Simmons laughed weakly. "Heh. Thanks."

He could see Grif's eyes rolling without even looking at him. Simmons then heard shuffling, and turned back around on the couch. "H-hey, where are you going?"

"I'm gonna get something to eat. Do you want to try eating something?"

Simmons tried to calm the knots in his stomach. "I don't think I'd be able to keep it down."

Grif nodded, and stared at Simmons for a moment. With a thoughtful expression on his face, he held up a finger. "Two seconds. I'll be right back." Simmons stayed seated and pondered why Grif would be so concerned with a fever and stuffy sinuses. Maybe he was looking too much into it. So Simmons had a small bit of a cold. They could handle it, and he could handle his increasing crush on Grif.

Simmons sat up on the couch, and realized he didn't have the energy to deny that he had no idea what to do. He also couldn't deny that at some point, he WOULD have to do something about it. He didn't know what that "something" was, but he knew he was dreading it.

A few minutes later, Grif came back with a cup of hot tea. Simmons sipped it slowly, and felt his nose clear up. He coughed a little, and kicked himself for it. "It's really sweet."

Grif sat himself on the floor near the couch. "Well, I knew you don't really like a lot of sugar, so I just dumped a shitload of honey in it."

Simmons smiled, and shook his head a bit. "It's nice, thank you." He took another sip, and the warmth of it spread through his chest. He set it down, more tired than he first thought. He looked up at Grif, and felt guilty for no real reason. "I can take care of myself, man. You should get some sleep for work tomorrow." He stretched, trying to make himself comfortable on the couch where he always seemed to find himself napping on.

"I don't know, you've been kind of lethargic all day. And that's saying something coming from me." Grif rubbed the back of his head, and looked around for more pillows or blankets that he could give Simmons. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fiiiine." Simmons replied slowly, as he burrowed himself deeper into the couch. "I didn't expect to actually have a cold, honestly." He murmured.

"That's what you get when you pretend it's just allergies." Grif glanced up at the clock. "Christ, it's already this late? I do have to get some sleep." He stood up, and stretched his arms above his head. He gazed back down at the heap of nerd that was falling asleep on the couch. "The next wedding is coming up soon, so you better get well soon or else."

"Hmmm." Simmons barely responded. Through his daze, he heard Grif sigh again, before his body became impossibly light. For a moment, he was certain the cold was messing with his perception, until he felt arms lift him off the couch. "Wh-huh?" His head swayed, and his entire body was resting against Grif's chest as he carried him back to the bedroom. He couldn't find the energy to be flustered at the situation he was in, so he settled for staying close to Grif's warmth until he was laid down on the bed.

Grif laid down on the other side, his back against Simmons's. "Night, Simmons."

Simmons didn't reply, his breathing already soft and slow. Grif simply smiled, and turned off the lamp on the stand next to him.

The next morning, Grif woke up with a sore throat, and groaned.


	8. I Guess You Can Have This Dance

One thing that everyone knew as a fact was that Simmon's old college roommates could party, and they could party hard. At least, the roommates that Simmons pretended he could stand. In all honesty, Simmons would have preferred to sit this wedding out, social expectations be damned.

But a bet's a bet, and 70 percent of Simmons was determined to see it through to the end. He straightened himself out of the slumped posture that he had let himself fall into. Various colors and strobe lights flashed fast across his vision, trying to give off a high energy dance floor but only giving Simmons a migraine. He imagine that this was what aging felt like, despite being the same age as everyone else here. He looked out onto the crowd of people having a good time like an irritated grandfather who just learned how to use Amazon and found out his items won't arrive on his doorstep for another two days.

As the rhythmic thumping of bass slowed into a calmer melody, a small plate of greasy food made itself known in fron of Simmons's face. Only about half-eaten as well. "For me?" he snarked.

"I know, you're quite the lucky man." Grif set the plate down in front of Simmons. "I don't share my food with just anyone."

"I'm aware." He grinned as Grif jabbed a finger into his side in response. Grif leaned back into his chair, and yawned. "So how long do I have to remain in this hell until I can atone and take off this damn suit?"

"Not long as all if you meet me in the bathroom." Grif quipped, his eyebrows wiggling like hyperactive caterpillars. Simmons rolled his eyes. He had gotten pretty good at ignoring Grif when he was joking around like this. It was only when Grif was serious about his affections that Simmons's knee-jerk reaction turned into his own feet slipping out from under himself.

He picked lazily at the plate of soggy appetizers, and scanned the crowd again. His own eyes felt slow and unfocused, as he realized that it while it wasn't that late, he was already tired. Maybe if he nagged at Grif a bit more, they could take off for the night and Simmons could get some sleep-

"Hey, is that Donut?" Grif asked. Simmons looked out in the direction he was pointing towards, and squinted. It looked like Donut, but the person in question was acting very uncharacteristic of him.

If Simmons didn't know any better, he say that he even looked nervous. "Does something about him seem off to you?"

Grif gave Simmons a weird look, and stared closer at Donut. He tilted his head. "What's he doing?"

Donut turned towards their table, busy studying his hands and glancing at something that neither Grif nor Simmons could see. Donut looked up for a second, and noticed the both of them staring at him. Simmons groaned inwardly, waiting for Donut to come bounding over with that excited puppy attitude. Instead, Donut glanced away before frantically waving for both of them to come over to him. "Do you think we should?"

"What are we gonna do if we don't want to? Sit here and just keep staring at people like it's a normal thing."

"Yeah, but if I break eye contact that means they win, so." Simmons said matter-of-factly, and Grif snorted.

"Pssh, what? Are you trying to be the alpha nerd now?"

"Not trying. I AM the alpha nerd." He pushed himself back from the table and tapped Grif on the arm. "Come on, let's go see what he wants."

Donut sighed and spoke in a hushed, nervous voice. "Thank god. You've gotta help me out." Before either of them could respond, Donut quickly turned Simmons and Grif around and peeked over their shoulders. "Okay, you can't look directly, but there's this guy that I have been trying to talk to all night."

"Wait, which one?" Grif turned his whole body around to get a better look, ignoring Donut's panicked movements. Grif nodded at someone in the crowd, and turned back. "Is it the one in the purple button down?"

"Yes, but I just told you not to make it seem like you were staring like I don't need-"

"Hey man," Grif interrupted, "I didn't do anything. He was already looking this way."

Donut was bewildered. "Wait, really? Do you think he was looking at me? Cause we made eye contact 5 minutes ago and I thought it was just a fluke but-" as Donut stuttered, Simmons turned to look as well, and whispered to Grif.

"He's still looking at him." Simmons got a thoughtful look on his face. He faced Donut. "Go talk to him."

Donut laughed anxiously. "That's not that easy."

Grif chimed in. "Donut, I've seen you charm every guy you've ever talked to in less than 3 minutes. How is this guy any different?"

"He's too attractive for me to just jump in like that."

Grif shrugged, and looked at Simmons. He shrugged back, and looked out onto the dance floor. Couples had started to embrace each other and spin around with soft music that played. Watching them smile and move with each other, Simmons had an idea. "Go ask him to dance."

"That's even worse! Look, how am I supposed to ask him to dance if I can't even look at him?"

"Because," Simmons grabbed Grif's hand, "you're going to follow us."

Grif looked puzzled, but amused. "What does that mean?"

"It means we're going to dance," Simmons smirked, "for the sake of our good friend."

A minute later, Donut and the other gentleman were dancing closer to each other than the bride and groom. Simmons would have been proud of himself, if he wasn't bickering with Grif. "I told you, I'm leading."

"You can lead when you're good at dancing. I'm just trying to save my feet."

"I wouldn't have stepped on your gigantic feet if you would just let me lead." This was the closest that they had ever been face-to-face. He huffed, and tried to relax himself. "Fine. Just don't do anything ridiculous."

"No problem. Hey, do you wanna try a dip?" Grif grinned widely.

Simmons felt the last of his common sense shrivel up and die. "Sure, why not." He felt a hand on his back as he lowered. His stomach tensed as he dropped, and stopped. Grif leaned over him, curls draped around his face. Around him, all sound seemed to stop. He stood up slowly, and realized the silence was accompanied by the entire floor staring at them.

"Hmm. How karmic." Simmons deadpanned as Grif flushed.


	9. Much Ado About Bullshit

[heyy]

Simmons phoned buzzed after a moment. The screen lit up with a reply. [Hey, what's up]

He grinned widely. [thinking about you] He hit send and took another swig of the whiskey he stashed away for a rainy day. It wasn't raining, but Simmons was bored.

His phone buzzed again. [Awwww, you're too sweet]

Of course, it wasn't just boredom that was driving Simmons to these kinds of texts. It wasn't even the alcohol that pushed him to such a state. [well, I am just in soo much love, you know]

[Don't oversell it]

Simmons giggled. [what? it's true]

No, the problem was that Simmons had gotten cocky. But It was only fair, right? He spent so long rebuking Grif's flirting, why couldn't he have some fun too? By the way he saw it, there was a debt of bad innuendos and cheesy compliments that needed to be repaid. Plus, there was the added bonus that Grif's coworkers could never keep to themselves. He laid back on the bed, waiting patiently for Grif's reply. [How drunk are you?]

[drunk enough to convince myself this is a good idea] He took another swig, and then jumped when some of it splashed back onto his face. He wiped off his face, turned to hold the phone above his face.

[Jesus, already that drunk? Pace yourself, babe]

[not until I'm drunk enough to forget what I'm doing right now so I don't have to live with the embarrassment] He paused, and then immediately sent a follow-up text. [not that this is embarrasing or anything, actually I'm pretty used to it] And another text to follow that one, along with a shot of whiskey to follow that last text. [you know what I mean]

[I don't, but as long as we're being all 'sappy'] There was no text to follow that one, and Simmons could have swore that was when he started sweating. His phone finally went off again. [I think you're pretty cute when you're honest like this]

Something in Simmons's rebellious nature made him reject the compliment faster than he could think. [its too bad I'm a pathological liar]

[Be serious.]

[i am. or am i? the world will never know]

A few minutes went by, and the swirl of Simmons drunken thoughts congealed into anxiety. That thought kept coming back to him whenever Grif wasn't around. Eventually, most relationships come to an end. And they were already past wedding two. How were they going to recover from something like this? He didn't even know how to stage a fake breakup, not to mention the fallout that would happen with their other friends. Could they even remain friends?

Simmons hoped that they could stay friends after this. Simmons hoped for something else, but he stopped himself before he could finish that thought. That would most definitely ruin their friendship, and he would never let that happen. He almost reached for the bottle, but decided against it. Maybe he really should take it slowly. The hangover was there regardless of what he did now, might as well not make it worse. As he reached over to his phone, it went off.

He held it up above his face, sleepy eyes trying to focus on the screen.

[Dating you has got to be one of the best things that ever happened to my sorry ass.]

Simmons dropped the phone on his face. 'Collect yourself, Simmons', he thought to himself. 'It's just part of the act'. [you really mean that?]

[Yeah] Still, he had to try it. Test the limits.

And so, Simmons got confident, something that you should never do when you're drunk. [I'm happy to hear that] The clump of anxiety in his stomach that had started to fade doubled in size. [actually, I have a confession to make]

[Oh, you're finally drunk enough not to remember this.] Simmons could see Grif's dumb, gorgeous smirk through the phone.

[be serious]

[I am.]

He hesitated to hit send this time, and deleted the message. Typed it up again. No, that's too much. Try again. No, too silly. Why was this so hard? Just send something. [I think I'm really starting to fall for you]

Why did he do that? Why the fuck did he do that? That was way too far, he knew that. This was the longest Grif had gone without replying, and minutes went by like days as he waited. Maybe he was just busy, or trying to figure out how to leave the country undetected. Simmons groaned and rubbed his tired eyes. This is just what happens, he supposed. He had started a dangerous game and lost in the first damned round.

He knocked his phone off the side table trying to get it when it did buzz. He unlocked it, and prayed.

[Well that's good, it would be weird if we were dating and you didn't like me.] Simmons's sigh of relief passed through his whole body. The game was still afoot, and they he was still a VIP. He took the out as quickly as his drunk thumbs could go.

[haha, true. well, think I'm gonna pass out. the door is unlocked]

[Alright, have fun Sleeping Beauty. I'll make sure to tell you all about this when you wake up tomorrow.] Two seconds later, Simmons breath stopped. [love you]

[haha, love you too, you big sap] He quickly sent it and then deleted all the texts from the conversation. Hopefully, he would actually forget that this happened and could agree with Grif that it was just harmless fun for the sake of making his coworkers uncomfortable.

He was sleeping with the phone pressed to his face when Grif walked into the room. If had been awake, he probably would have appreciated him taking the phone and plugging it into it's charger, after chuckling at the drool Simmons had left on the screen. He might have even appreciated the way that Grif glanced at Simmons sleeping face, before turning off the light in the room and walking out to get something to a midnight snack.

In the morning, Simmons was greeted with a headache and the realization that he hadn't forgotten the events of last night. Grif was leaning against the bedroom's door frame, grinning. He sighed. "God, what did you do now?"

"Me? I didn't do anything. His grin got bigger. "This is all you, buddy."

"Really." Simmons scoffed, and then gagged. "Ugh, let me brush my teeth and you can tell me about what I did." Grif then left, and Simmons fell back and pressed a pillow to his face. It's never going to get easier, is it?


	10. Dolce

{placeholder summary}Dolce- An adverb or adjective that means "sweetly and softly", common in music terminology

Grif and Simmons try making something, and talk about the ugly inevitable. They almost fuck both of these things up. {placeholder summary}

(notes: Ding dong I was feeling bad but then I started writing this and I think it's impossible to have a bad time when thinking about this AU. Honestly was feeling awful and somehow this always makes me okay again god bless. )

Simmons had heard of it before, he just never realized how great of an idea it was before he started living with Grif. Honestly, it was strange that he hadn't thought of it before that. Grif looked at him as Simmons said it, and an outsider would have thought that he had just been proposed to.

"Dude."

"Yeah, I know. So do you want to do it?"

Grfi gripped Simmons shoulders and shook him enthusiastically. "An oreo pie? Of course I want to!" He stopped throwing Simmons around and actually ran to get his jacket.

"What are you doing?"

"Uh, we have to go to the store?"

"But we have enough ingredients..."

"For one pie?! Come on, man!" He rushed over and grabbed Simmons hand. Simmons tried (and failed) to not think too much into that gesture. He was pulled to the car, and nearly dragged into the grocery store.

Grif brushed against him as he reached around Simmons and plucked ingredients off of shelves. Simmons snorted, unable to stop the smile that showed itself whenever Grif was like this. As much as he hated to admit it, Grif was cute when he was energetic about things.

Believe it or not, Simmons still had some things he hated to admit. He had his dignity afterall. One of those things was his own love of how calm things had been. Simmons constantly imagined him as some housewife who settled down and took comfort in ice cream and bad television. A housewife who lives to see her husband's glowing grin and the quiet moments where she's the only one who gets to see it late at night. Simmons was somewhere in between retching and swooning when he did imagine it.

Grif reached for another package, and Simmons raised an eyebrow. "Those aren't even oreos."

"Yeah, but you can put ~these~," he waved the package of Chips Ahoy, "in the pie."

Simmons shook his head a little but put them in the cart anyways. "Genius."

Don't imagine it. Don't think about how you might actually miss that grin. Think about how great that bet money is gonna be, or how it'll be nice to have time to yourself when you're no longer the center of attention to anyone. Wait, maybe not that last one. Don't think about how Grif won't notice you anymore. Don't revel in how happy you are that Grif looks like he honestly wants you around. Don't think about the texts.

Do NOT think about those texts.

Simmons drove back, melancholy settling over him. Grif talked quickly, rifling through the bags and opening the Chips Ahoy. "Oh, no you don't."

"Why nooot?" Grif whined through a mouthful of cookie.

"You are not getting crumbs in the car."

"It's not even your car."

"We already share a bed, Grif. This is no time to start getting possessive."

Grif leaned over as they parked. "I could just be possessive of you." He put his hand on Simmons's knee.

"Easy tiger. It takes more than half a box of cookies to get with me." The hand didn't move. He looked over at Grif. "We're here."

Grif snapped out of his dazed expression. "Oh, okay." He jumped out and threw his arms up. "Let's get this oreo pie show on the road that is my stomach!"

The pie itself was easy enough to make. Or, it would have been easy for anyone other than Grif and Simmons. They both stared at the cream cheese that was splattered in all directions on the floor. It was such an interesting shape, like its own constellation. After a second, Grif sighed and grabbed a rag. "It's a good thing we went to the store."

"It's like we knew we were gonna fuck it up somehow."

"Isn't that our entire lives?" Grif snarked, and Simmons laughed.

Simmons went back to crushing the rest of the oreos. Don't think about it, he told himself. He did anyways. A quiet minute went by before Simmons's hands slowed. "Grif."

"Yo." Grif had another cookie in his mouth as he melted more cream cheese.

"Can we talk about something?"

Grif's voice hosted confusion, and something else that Simmons couldn't quite place. "What's up?"

"So, after this whole bet is over..."

"Yeah?" Terseness, that was it.

"Well, I was just thinking about how we're gonna have to, you know, 'break up' after this is done."

"Hmm." Grif made a small noise of acknowledgement.

"I mean, it's not like we have to stay like this after we get the money, and it's just easier if we figure it out now." Grif wasn't talking, so Simmons let himself spill forth more. "Besides, who would care after so long? And I know you wouldn't want to cause a scene." He laughed nervously. "What am I even saying? Why does anyone have to know that we broke up? It could be a quiet thing, like a screenshot of a text conversation. Maybe a quiet break off, like a marriage gone cold." No, don't think about it. You're not even married to Grif, why think about the destruction of a good marriage when it doesn't even exist. That housewife is your imagination, and you let it get the best of you. Grif was facing the microwave, faced away from Simmons. Simmons laughed again, shorter and more like a guttural sound of pain. "Hey, which one of us should ghost the other, do you think?"

A few seconds that felt like an hour, and Grif spoke. "You should do it."

"Heh, why's that?" Grif pulled the cream cheese out, carefully this time. Simmons stared at it, refusing to look up at Grif's face.

"You're already pretty good at being oblivious."

Simmons looked up. It was the same glowing grin that Grif always wore. He didn't know what he was so worried about. "Oh, sure. I'm so oblivious. May I remind you, not two minutes ago you were the one who dropped the cream cheese."

Grif placed the new cream cheese on the counter, smirking. "Sorry, I was just too distracted by your good looks."

"Fair enough." Simmons shrugged, trying to contain his rapid heartbeat. He could have kicked himself for being so worked up about something as ridiculous as a fake break-up. The rest of the evening went on like that, joking and teasing giving birth to one perfect pie. Grif almost seemed disappointed, but that quickly faded when Simmons waved another unopened box of oreos in front of him. "Since we don't have more cream cheese."

"That's alright, I forgive you for that."

"Hey! I didn't-" Simmons stopped himself and scowled at him. "Whatever. Both of us are alive, so I'll count that as a win." He wiped his hands on his jeans, and checked the time. It had been two hours. So much for thirty minutes of prep, he thought to himself. Simmons sighed wearily, and patted Grif's shoulder. "I'm gonna chill and watch some bad reality TV if you're interested."

"Hey." Grif stopped Simmons before he could leave the kitchen. "Don't worry about the breaking up thing. I'm sure my sister won't let us off the hook that easy."

"What, do you think she'll make us break up a specific way?"

"That, or she might raise the stakes. I know how bets go with Kai, it's never just one thing."

"God, I don't know if I could even handle dating you for more than a couple months." They both laughed, more comfortable with it now.

"Too bad, babe. You chose me, that ball and chain is never going away."

"Fine." Simmons leaned over towards Grif, who almost reflexively stepped back. "But I get to name our first child." He reached over and grabbed a few oreos before dashing into the living room.

He filled his mouth with them before the realization of what he had just done made him scream his soul out of body. Simmons was never going to learn, but at least he understood that some things just can't be stopped. And most times, you will think about things that you try your best to ignore. And it won't work.

At the very least, he could take solace in the idea that Grif had no idea what he was going through.


	11. Petitions To Increase Chapter Title Leng

"This is stupid." Grif leaned into the car door and sulked.

"Just an hour ago you were saying that you 'might actually enjoy this'." Tucker snarked at him, and Grif sunk deeper into his slouch. Tucker's smirk didn't fade. "Is this because you miss your boyfriend?"

"At least I'm dating someone." Grif grumbled.

"Hey, I'm working on something."

Grif snorted, and looked over at Tucker wryly. "Yeah? You raising three kittens and getting a gym membership is you 'working on it'."

Tucker kept himself steady on the road, but took a moment to roll his eyes. "It's gotta work eventually. By the way, how is Kai?" Grif elbowed him in the arm. Tucker laughed. "Alright, I get it. Just making conversation."

Grif sighed. "Let's just get to this damn wedding so I can feel my legs again."

"And so you can see your sweetheart?" Tucker joked.

Grif was back at the window, with the smallest, sweetest smile on his face. He wouldn't let Tucker see it, but Tucker knew it was there regardless.

He got a smile on his own face. "You know, I called."

"You and everyone else."

A masquerade. At least a hundred people, flouncing around all with intricate masks and delicate glances. How did Simmons even know people that could hold a wedding like this? He and Grif just spent the last week stretching out a few day's worth of chicken for a week, and yet they knew someone who could throw a party straight out of Cinderella.

Simmons couldn't even put a finger on why the elegance seemed out of place. He started to worry if it was his own fault. He couldn't even enjoy a nice wedding without thinking its extravagance to be thinly veiled pretentiousness. Everything just looked and sounded too dramatic for him. Like a third arc to a play that had been centered on Simmons's own awkward actions, one that played with Simmons's emotions to no end. But of course, that just wasn't how the world worked. Who would even read a play like that?

But of course, that wasn't really why Simmons was distracting himself with bad metaphors and even worse meta-concepts. He had wandered the fancy ballroom in an actual suit, (sometimes Simmons really did appreciate Donut's efforts at helping Simmons fit in with richer crowds, even if he didn't say anything) but yet again he found himself alone.

It had been Grif's idea. Simmons had come to a lot of realizations over the course of the best, but one was the most certain: Almost every idea had come from Grif. Their first date, the weddings, little actions that always seemed to take Simmons's full attention. And yet again, Simmons had agreed. They were to separate before the wedding, meet up during the reception. It was easier on both of them (the car wasn't going to pass inspection, and Simmons would be damned if they were late to the wedding and then had to pay a traffic ticket), and it let Simmons gather his thoughts beforehand.

The thoughts that Simmons had rounded up so far were:

A. Grif never really told him how they were gonna end the bet.

B. People have started to joke about him and Grif getting hitched, and

C. There is a very good chance that Simmons is madly in love with Grif.

"You're overthinking things."

Simmons glared at Donut, who was in the corner of his eye, checking his teeth in the mirror. "I am aware of that."

Though, Donut did know how to tap into Simmons's insecurities. Donut grinned one more time at the camera, and turned to Simmons. "If you keep building this up it's not going to get any easier."

And he was right, even if Simmons was damned to admit it. "Why did we even take separate cars again?"

Donut sighed. "That's just how it happens. You can't help your car dying, and I wasn't going to be cramped in the back of Tucker's sports car for a 40 minute drive."

"And we couldn't use yours."

"Hey, Doc needed a ride, so I gave him one."

Simmons paused. "We're still talking about the carpool, right?"

It was Donut's turn to glare at him. "Listen, they're bound to be here any minute, so unless you want to stay in the bathroom and hide-"

"That's not the worst idea-"

"then we need to make an appearance."

Simmons crossed his arms against his chest protectively, and leaned back into a wall. "I'll be out in a second. Go, schmooze or something."

Donut stared for a second, and then threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine, I tried." Another moment later, and he was gone, which left Simmons to overthink things yet again.

And as with all of Grif's ideas, there was the inevitable result that they would fail. Simmons almost had a theory to it: Grif would have a terrible idea, it would go well for a while, and then it would blow up in his face. Simmons wondered nervously if this would be the same, only where Simmons was also within the blast radius. The mantra of "Don't think about it" was falling apart faster than he could think of a better method of denial, and this was the third wedding afterall.

That settled it then. The only way that either of them were going to come out alive and with something resembling a friendship was if Simmons himself had an idea. Made a decision. Starting thinking about "it", in a state of mind where he was fully of aware of what "it" was. He unfolded his arms, straightened his posture, left the bathroom.

People swirled around him in their own worlds, oblivious enough that Simmons could hardly feel them there at all. That would make things easier, at the very least. All he would have to do, is find Grif, take him to the side. It made more sense to take a logical edge to it, and it allowed Simmons to push his emotions down one more time. One last act.

Grif was near the outside of the ballroom floor, the mask decorating his face but not concealing it. Simmons carefully strapped his own mask over his eyes, and strode towards him.

"Took you long enough." Grif spoke first, and Simmons shrugged. Grif gave him a strange look. "No comeback?"

"Not right now." He took Grif's hand, and lead him closer to the center of the dance floor. Grif followed him wordlessly. "I just want to enjoy this."

Grif nodded, his face lit up with a smile. "I'll let you lead, then."


	12. If You Love Me, Let Me Know

The champagne that was served was too sweet to be good, but as he threw one more glass down his throat he started to care less and less about its quality. As far as he could tell, how drunk would be imperative to how well he could endure what was coming next.

It should be said that Simmons's length in how far he could tell was shortening as the night went on.

Grif was so blissful, it was infuriating to him. He followed well, leaning into Simmons and joking around like he didn't understand what needed to happen. It reminded Simmons of all the times he had let Grif make the decisions since the bet. It must be so nice to pass on the responsible decisions on someone else. Without thinking, Simmons misstepped and they both stumbled during a turn. Simmons flashed back to reality, flustered. "Ah, sorry."

Grif just giggled. "It wouldn't be a good dance if we weren't constantly messing it up." He fell back into place seamlessly, taking Simmons's hand again.

In the back of his brain, something chipped away at his frustration. A desperate miner who was slowly but surely bringing themselves to the front of his brain. Like water washing away dirt from a cave wall, a strange revelation came to Simmons. He didn't really know how Grif felt about any of this. For all the times that he tried to be serious, Grif had come back with a joke and a smile. It could be said that he was avoiding the question that needed an answer. But it could also be said that Simmons was overthinking things, and had been over thinking this entire time.

Grif must have seen the far-off look in Simmons's face, and he spoke up with concern and confusion laced together in his tone. "Hey, are you okay?"

Simmons deflected him, embarrassed that he showed so much through doing almost nothing at all. "I'm fine." He laughed to change the mood. It felt like a metaphorical game of baseball, where all he could do was lose. It didn't matter how long it took, something would get him out sooner or later. "Man, I can't even handle my champagne."

Grif didn't laugh, and that was the first strike. "Is that right?"

"Well, I mean, I haven't started texting you strange things, so maybe one more glass." Simmons joked, his lighthearted smile surprisingly heavy on his face. "That would be quite a sight, getting sloppy drunk at a ballroom wedding-"

"I think you're lying to me, Simmons." Strike two, and Simmons had to hold his breath just to keep himself from giving anything away.

"What? Why would I lie to you?" Besides all of the obvious reasons.

Grif's demeanor broke down in front of him. He sighed. "Because..." He trailed off, and rubbed his neck. "Because maybe I've been lying to you too."

"You're not making any sense." Was this how it was going to end? Right here, in the middle of the third wedding. Simmons wanted to at least wait until after it was over to tell him that enough was enough. That the line of how deep they could get into this without losing themselves was crossed. Still, he was thankful that his mask hid whatever pain showed on his face, as if it helped him somehow.

"If I keep going it's going to ruin me, and then it'll ruin us." And there is was. "I can't do this anymore." Strike three, and that was the end of the game. He clung to whatever composure he had, steeled himself for what he assumed would be the last time.

"I know." Defeated, what a simple word for such a devastating feeling. At least, after this they could still be friends.

But, it would never be the same. That was possibly the worst part of it all.

Grif leaned forward again, pushing them both out of the crowd they had just been ridiculing for their selfishness, while they now chastised themselves for their own. He stared Simmons directly in the eyes. "I want to be brave. I want you to know so many things, but I can't do it unless you're ready to hear it."

Cold blood slowly heated to a boil as Simmons realized that if Grif did tell him it was over, he really wouldn't be able to handle it. But what was the out now? He didn't know. Grif took a deep breath, and suddenly Simmons found himself filled with words that he had been trying to say all night, but hadn't found the courage to. Before Grif could speak, Simmons said two of those words. "I can't."

You could have hit Grif in the groin and he would have looked less shocked. "What?"

Simmons choked on the rest of his words that came out, unable to stop them. "You're right. And I'm sorry." He pushed Grif back, giving himself enough space to get away.

"Simmons!" Grif called after him, but he had already found the exit.

At another edge of the ballroom, Donut cursed out loud and gave Doc his drink. "Grif! Go after him, godammit!" He sped up past Grif and started to pull him into moving at his pace.

"Donut what the fu-" Donut grabbed him by his sleeve, determined to get Grif out the door.

"I said, get!" He pushed Grif between his shoulderblades, lurching him forward. "I have worked too hard for you two to mess it up now! You love him, right? So tell him!"

That did it. He didn't stop to question how Donut knew, or even how he was going to catch up to Simmons. Grif's fast walk turned to a jog, and by the time they both hit the door it was almost a full run.

At the doorway, Donut stopped to watch Grif catch up fast. He turned back, waved to a very confused Doc. His breathing calmed down quickly, and he couldn't help but laugh. He spoke out loud to no one in the warm night air. "And they call me oblivious. Unbelieveable."


	13. Fortissimo

Faster, Simmons begged himself. The faster you go, the easier it will be to get away. Gravel crunched and slid under Simmons's feet, threatening to slide too far under him and give way. They did not, and Simmons kept going until pain that grew from his heart settled itself in his lungs and he heaved large breaths of humid air with every stride. On and on, Simmons would keep going until he could fix this, until he could understand what he needed to do next, until he understood anything at all.

In all actuality, he wasn't sure he'd could do anything now. His feet ached with how hard he slammed them on the ground, refusing to slow down or even turn around. As long as he could still hear Grif behind him, he knew that his feet would never stop for anything. Knew that he wouldn't slip up so as long as he kept telling himself that this was for the best.

One foot too far in front of him, and Simmons slipped. He fell forward, the rocks and dirt digging into the skin of his palms as he tried to keep his head from hitting the ground. He didn't get up, even as he heard Grif's heavy footsteps trailing behind him, coming closer. Carelessness brought him to this point, but it was shame that kept him there.

Shame. Shame that burned, that criticized him and tried its hardest to stay at the front of Simmons's mind. Shame that disguised itself as a helpful suggestion, or a knee-jerk reaction that was only there to keep his heart safe. The lighthearted joking that came right before what could have been a confession, revealing itself as the very thing that always held him back. Despite his best efforts to remind himself that there were some things he couldn't control, the very thought that his own inability to be truthful to himself weighed him down to the dirt. You don't get a fourth strike, they just send you home. He had no more defenses left.

He didn't have the willpower to turn around when he heard Grif call his name. "Simmons..." It was weaker, but Simmons knew that Grif had caught up. Grif was breathing hard, and more guilt twinged in his chest. It was never supposed to be this difficult, for himself or for Grif. Simmons sat back on his legs, still facing away from Grif. Clouds loomed above both of them, large enough to threaten rain, and dark enough to hide the light of the moon and stars.

And they stayed like that for what felt like hours. Grif didn't walk around to Simmons, Simmons didn't turn back. After an eternity of waiting, Simmons sighed, and tried not to collapse under the weight of every wrong decision that led to where he was now. "Grif, I'm..." His voice was blank, yet the face that Simmons refused to let Grif see showed more feeling than he ever would have let on for the time that they had been together. "I'm so tired, Grif."

For the amounts of passion that pushed Grif to run after Simmons, Grif couldn't arrange any string of words that would convince Simmons to stand up. Nothing that could persuade him to come back with him, tell him that whatever he was going through he didn't have to go through alone, that they would do it together if he would just tell Grif why-

Simmons shoulders were shaking. From behind, Grif could see one hand go up to his face, trying to quell the lump of suppressed emotion that was coming out of Simmons. There was no sound, but Grif didn't need to hear anything for his heart to break at the sight of Simmons, someone who he had only ever known to be composed and in control, losing himself while he stood only a few feet away. Quietly, Grif did hear words, but did not realize they were his own until after the fact. "I didn't want this to happen." Grif took a step forward, attempting to close the gap that presented itself as a bridge that stretched out onto a horizon and never stopped. But he was too close to stop now. Not after everything, not yet. "Simmons... Simmons, this is all my fault."

Simmons laughed a little, but it wasn't lighthearted. It was like the heavy, discordant laugh when someone who's crying is trying their best to that they're alright, when the truth is quite the opposite. Grif was right behind him, kneeling and so close to Simmons that he could hear him whimper. "I'm the one who should be apologizing, I..." Now there was so much emotion in his voice, so much that it spilled out from between the words that Simmons made such an effort to push out. Yet the words that he endeavored to make it seem like this was fine, that he was fine, were failing. Instead, Grif heard him let out a small sob. "God, I'm so sorry."

Without a second thought, Grif leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Simmons. He braced Simmons's light frame lean against his body, as Simmons remarked at how warm Grif's arms felt around his body. Grif's voice was softer than Simmons had ever heard it before. "Please, talk to me."

He sat up, still facing away from him. "You won't hate me if I do?"

Grif pulled Simmons closer, and held him like he might lose him if he didn't. "I could never hate you. But I hate seeing you like this. Is it something I did?"

"No! Well, not exactly. It's hard to explain, but..." Simmons looked for better words, found none, and sighed again. "Grif, I love you. I tried my damndest to keep it to myself but," He lifted Grif's arms up, and off of himself. He turned around, faced Grif. His face had two lines where tears had started to stream down his face. "I love you so much. I don't want to hide it anymore. It isn't fair to me, or to you." He looked down, unable to met his eyes for one last time. "I just don't want to lose this. I never want to lose what we had before the bet, what we had before 'this'." Simmons placed emphasis on the last word, as if already angry at himself for bursting out like that. "I hope you can forgive me."

Grif laughed. Just a little, but enough to make Simmons look up quickly. Grif brushed the tears out of his own face, giggling. "That's a relief." He gazed at Simmons, smiling warmly.

"What do you mean? Why aren't you devastated?"

"Well, I mean, I'm in love with you too."

There was a moment of silence. As the cogs in his head turned, the sadness on Simmons's face faded slowly, replaced by hope and near disbelief. "Really?"

Grif laughed again. "Yeah, stupid." He took Simmons's hand, and Simmons realized he was now unable to look away from the face that he couldn't look at a moment ago. "That was what I was going to tell you before you left. God, I thought I fucked up big time. It was pretty scary."

"I can imagine." Simmons replied, and giggled along with Grif. And then he couldn't stop laughing, like they were back at that art museum. He leaned forward, rested his head on Grif's shoulder as giggles came like bubbles of relieved joy rising out of his chest. After a few minutes, Simmons sat back and looked up at Grif. "We're a couple of damn fools, aren't we?"

Grif laughed. "You sound like Sarge."

It was good to know that Simmons still had the strength to roll his eyes at him. "You're ruining the moment."

"Heh, sorry." Grif glanced at Simmons's flushed face. He reached over and cupped Simmons's cheek in his hand, cherishing the small smile that appeared on his face as he did. Grif gave his trademark wide grin, and Simmons knew he was melting. He didn't stop himself from leaning forward, gently pushing himself even closer to Grif. For a second, Grif went from being confused to understanding all at once what Simmons was doing, and moved to scoop Simmons up in his arms. The distance between them finally closed, as Grif's lips pressed lightly on Simmons's. Simmons relaxed into the kiss, resting his arms around Grif's shoulders. Simmons turned his head slightly to the side, giggled whenever he felt Grif smile against the kiss. The low rumble that could be heard in the distance definitely foreshadowed a storm, which was too bad because neither Grif nor Simmons could find the time to care. They stayed there for a few more moments, and Simmons wished that it had been hours as he reveled in how soft Grif's lips were. He marveled at how gently he held him close, how Grif was his, his, Grif was Simmons's and Simmons's alone and it was the greatest thing the universe had ever given him.


	14. Tips For First Time Pet Owners

"Did that dog just say something?" Grif's tone bordered on bewilderment as both he and Simmons sat on the concrete floor of an animal shelter. He stayed a good distance away from the thing that obviously wasn't a dog, who had nestled themselves into Simmons's arms.

"Yeah, she said 'Adopt me, Grif! I promise I won't eat everything you own.'" He moved one of it's paws to make it look like it was gesturing to Grif. There was no denying that Simmons had his heart set on this... well, what could only be described as a combination of a german shepard, fox, and some kind of giant insect. It rolled around, exposing its stomach to Simmons and he cooed at it. "I think she likes us!"

"I think she likes you." Grif's body language betrayed him, as Simmons raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't know, Simmons, I guess I'm just not sure about this one." Or any other one here. Come to think of it, he hadn't heard or seen any other dogs since they had arrived, and the person that let them in hadn't explained why that was the case. Grif chalked it up to them all being adopted, as that was the nicest conclusion he could think of at the moment.

"I thought you said you were a dog person!" Simmons said incredulously, and the animal stared at him. It blinked slowly, like a relaxed cat, and- yup, those were two more eyes than it should have. Smaller and hidden above its normal eyes, yet still focused on him.

Grif spoke slow, as if sudden speech was like sudden movement, and this thing would sprout spider legs and eat him if he moved too fast. "That's... not a dog."

The creature went still for a moment, save for the four eyes that blinked at different times, always keeping one eye on Grif. Simmons huffed, more amused than annoyed. "What do you think it is then? An alien?"

Grif wanted to reply that maybe that was the case, and that Simmons should probably back up before it started glowing, but instead settled on an uneasy "Maybe we should ask the attendant."

"Ask me what?" They both jumped and turned to find the attendant standing by the door silently, with her hands folded in front of her like she had been waiting for them the entire time.

Simmons laughed nervously. "Whoa, how long have you been there?"

The worker ignored his question, and motioned to the animal. "If you're wondering about Sparks, she's a mixed breed that we picked up a while ago. She's never really taken to people," she then smiled, "but it looks like you're different."

Simmons's face lit up, which struck a nerve in Grif. He reconsidered the thing that had now closed its eyes to rest in Simmons's embrace. "How long have you had her?"

"It's been a few years now." The woman's polite speech got a more sullen. "Most of the animals here have been adopted, but... I guess because of Sparky's attitude, no one really wanted her." She made eye contact with Grif, and he shifted uncomfortably. There was so much of hope behind her gaze that it was difficult to stare back at her.

Grif instead looked back at Sparks, still sleeping lightly. He reached over to touch the animal, and gasped when he saw its fur raise to touch his hand, like it was electrically charged. He carefully placed his hand down on it, and felt the charge run through his palm. "Sparks, huh?"

She laughed. "Yeah, we were all pretty _shocked_ when we found that out." Simmons groaned, which made both Grif and the woman laugh. "That's not even counting the time we found out she knew how to short circuit the electric lock on her cage. It was like Prison Break for dogs." She stopped her joking tone, and looked down at Simmons, who was playing with the animals Sparks's ears. "Were you thinking about adopting her?"

"Uh," Grif rubbed the back of his neck, not ready to give her (or Simmons) an answer just yet. Sparks opened her eyes and yawned, displaying a surprisingly normal set of teeth- and a blue tongue. How was Grif supposed to say Sparks was even safe to be around? Picking a pet was hard enough, but Grif had to also consider if he could even handle a pet that most likely subsisted off of batteries. Does it drink water? Is it solar powered? Not to mention, he didn't know what he would do if it got into any wires... There was no way he'd get back the security deposit, not if their pet caused a city-wide power outage.

But good God, there was no way Grif could say no to that face. Not any childish, "kid in a toy store" kind of face that would no doubt influence others. Simmons wouldn't plead for him to say yes, that would undermine his pride. Simmons simply stared down, giggling slightly when Sparks turned to push her face into his hand. That was what got him, because Grif yearned to see Simmons not just happy, but comfortable. For the years that he had known him, Grif had seen Simmons in a near constant state of unease. It didn't take much for Simmons to get anxious, because he was already there, and there wasn't much that Grif was able to do to stop that.

But there were moments, when Simmons was contented or tired or preoccupied enough that he forgot to get worried. Grif had made it his own personal ultimatum to seek as many of those moments as he could. And he has the look on his face again, as his fingers idly stroked the animal's head. Grif sighed inwardly, his defenses breaking down. "Yeah, I think we'll take her."

In the car, Grif leaned back, and waited until everyone was ready (a necessary habit, as Simmons often forgot belongings only to remember them as they driving away). As they all settled in, Sparks wasted no time in hopping from the back seat to the front, back into Simmons's lap and sniffing the cracked open car window. Grif laughed a little, and started to drive away, when he noticed the woman from before watching their car leave. He had expected her to be just a little forlorn, possibly melancholic that a companion who had stayed with her for so long was finally leaving her. He hadn't expected her to look so ecstatic, or at least not this much. She bounced on her heels almost childishly, with a large grin on her face and clasped hands. But in a way, that also made sense, since that meant that every animal in her shelter had finally gone to a good home. Deep down, Grif felt a sense of pride, like he had improved the life of another person by promising to be good to Sparks.

That, or she was also from another planet, and this was a successful act of integrating a new species into Earth's environment. That was more fun to suggest, as it had the added bonus of furthering the cause of intergalactic science. He had watched Lilo and Stitch, he knew how these things went. And if it could happen in his home state, it could happen in the Northeastern United States as well.

Grif's mind sidetracked, as it usually did. But this time was a bit different from when he would exit out of a conversation to think about food or TV or Simmons. Thoughts of Hawaii popped up, along with that specific brand of dread that came with it. This would actually be the first time in months that he had felt it, he had been so wrapped up in his new life with Simmons. Homesickness was like an old and misplaced kind of nostalgia that just never tried to make itself look or feel like it was wanted. Grif sure as hell didn't need it in his life, but there is was, ready to tell him that there was a place where he really yearned to be and it wasn't here. No cloud or haze of darkness settled around him as he was reminded of this, just the all-too familiar pit in the bottom of his stomach.

He felt something touch his leg. He didn't have to look away from the road to know that Simmons was there. That was more than enough, sometimes. You'd think that talking less in a relationship was a bad sign, but they had done enough talking their entire lives to understand when they just needed them to be there, that they couldn't always solve each other's problems but that wasn't the point, that wasn't why they stayed. Simmons didn't say anything. Grif felt comforted nonetheless.

Everything at the house was already set up. Count on Simmons to be crazy prepared, and for Tucker to have extra pet supplies that belonged to his "roommate". Sparks jumped and hopped around the small apartment with as much endless glee as her keeper had when they left the shelter. "Alien telepathy," Grif thought to himself, before realizing how ridiculous he sounded. Grif then remembered that Sparks might have more than two eyes, and decided that telepathy wasn't that far out of the range of possibilities.

Simmons laughed a little behind him, and Grif snapped back into reality. "What's so funny?"

"I know Sparks isn't a dog."

"Are you serious?"

"Why do you think I wanted her so much? Having an alien as a pet isn't something you see every day."

Grif snorted. "That's uncharacteristically risky of you."

"I've said it before, you're a very bad influence." Simmons and Grif watched Sparks run around before laughing again.

"What is it?"

"Nothing." Simmons smirked. "What if that lady was also an alien, and this was her plan all along?"

Grif threw his hands up in disbelief. "I was thinking the same thing!"

Simmons didn't seem surprised. "I had a feeling. You were so distant in the car, I was thinking you were considering the galactic consequences of having an extraterrestrial creature as a pet."

"Well, I was. A little." Despite his attempts the pit in his stomach had not disappeared. Simmons must have seen his face change because his own expression turned to one of concern.

"Are you okay?"

Grif ran a hand on the back of his neck, but smiled a bit to put Simmons at ease. "Yeah! Yeah. I was just..." he paused. "just thinking about Hawaii again."

Simmons looked at the floor awkwardly. "Oh." He popped his head up again, optimistic. "We could always take a trip there! I have vacation days saved up at work."

Grif's smile turned more genuine, but there was still that feeling of dread that he couldn't shake. "That sounds nice." He looked over at Sparks, who had already taken the opportunity to stretch himself over every section of the couch. He sighed out loud, and regretted it instantly. Simmons moved closer, one hand gently grasping Grif's.

"I know you miss your home." He sounded honestly sad for Grif, and a bit helpless that he couldn't do much for him.

Grif turned to face Simmons wholly. "You don't have to feel bad for my sake." He shrugged. "Sometimes I just get down, it happens." Simmons nodded, he understood, because on some level, Simmons always seemed to get it. Grif reached up to touch Simmons's cheek. "Besides, you're home for me."

Simmons giggled again, his eyes closed as he relaxed into the warmth that emanated from Grif's hand. "That's so cheesy." He opened his eyes, just in time to see Grif give a cheeky grin. He tilted his head. "Come here." Grif leaned in closer, and they met the distance between their mouths with a deliberately slow and chaste kiss. The pit in Grif's stomach eased away, like a large knot that frayed away into tiny strings and Grif wondered why he even worried in the first place. When they finally pulled away, Simmons found both of their hands intertwined with each others.

And then they heard the sound of ripping leather. Simmons bolted for the couch where Sparks was eating the side of the upholstery, while Grif started to laugh. So much for an intelligent alien project. "Sparks, no! Bad alien! No, come on, don't do that! Good Earth pets do not eat the furniture!" Sparks stopped, and tilted his head quizzically at Simmons. "Good. Now, don't do that again, okay?"

They both jumped back as Sparks nodded and went "Okay!" in a high pitched, scratchy voice.


	15. Legato

As it turns out, preparing for the last wedding was easy. Getting a sitter for Sparks was a matter of making a few phone calls and both of them lying through their teeth about several things "completely unrelated" electrical issues around the apartment. In their defense, Grif and Simmons had no idea that having a pet that constantly emitted extra voltage would cause this many problems. Had they researched it, they may have found out that improper wiring can cause things like microwaves and toasters to wear out or catch on fire. Fortunately though, they had figured out that last bit of information on their own. No, none of the primping and cleaning had been difficult.

Talking Grif out of an idea, however, is the single most impossible feat in our known universe.

"Grif, I'm telling you this because I love you." Simmons faced his boyfriend, who was looking more defiant as the seconds ticked by. He breathed in slowly, hands folded and close to his face like he was praying to God for the love of his life to just stop being a dumbass for one day. "You can't wear the pizza tie again."

"Why not?!" Grif protested. He threw his hands up in the air dramatically. He looked like a man who was out to prove a point, and planned to do so by smoothing out a tie covered in not just pictures of pizza, but ACTUAL pizza. Simmons ran a hand over his face and gathered his patience.

"Grif, it's not even ironed. And it's stained. And," Simmons counted out each statement with his fingers, "this wedding has a dress code."

"So what?" Grif shrugged. "You act like there's gonna be bouncers outside of the ceremony checking for people with wicked cool ties." He adjusted the tie, acting like he had just put Simmons in checkmate. Meanwhile, Simmons started to remind himself that he needed to save his energy for the wedding, and tried his best not to wrestle the discolored and slightly smelly bit of fabric away from Grif. "There! All ready!"

Simmons sighed. "Good to hear." He reached for the brochure for the wedding (they had mailed them the brochure a week early, which was never a good sign) and flipped towards the schedule. He sighed aloud. This was the longest wedding out of all of them, and Simmons was already thinking about being at home. "Maybe if I pretend to stab myself in the hand we can leave the reception early." Grif snorted. "Shit, did I say that out loud?" He laughed harder.

"Something tells me you're not looking forward to it." Grif turned to Simmons with a sly smirk on his face.

Simmons laughed lightly. "Not exactly, no." He glanced up at Grif, and winced at his tie. It was a wonder that nobody has commented on it the last three times he had worn it. Must have been one of those things where plenty of people saw the trainwreck, but no one dared speak of it. In the back of his head, Simmons had the nagging suspicion that Grif knew this fact as well.

Oh well, at least it was on straight this time. Simmons paused, stared at the tie again. It was nicely put on, like Grif had finally learned to tie it right. He was proud for a moment, but also disappointed. Grif tilted his head, confused. "What's up?"

Simmons's head snapped up, and he shrugged. "Ah, nothing." He smiled. "Do you... remember the first wedding? When you first wore this and you tied it terribly?"

"Yeah, I do." Grif grinned. "You kept badgering me about it."

"Yeah." Simmons was still smiling. He reached to fidget with the tie, but stopped himself. It was perfect the way it was. "It's too bad that it looks nice now." He saw Grif's expression grow bemused, and realized that he was distracting himself from what he really wanted to say. "You know, at the end of that wedding, I had this... feeling." A short, nervous laugh escaped his throat, like this was the very first time he was telling Grif what Grif already knew in stark detail. "I tried so hard to hide that I was crushing on you, and-" he coughed. "I may have realized it then, but" he met Grif's gaze, and it burned through his very soul. "I think I've loved you for a very long time now."

Grif's grin had changed from it's usual shape to a bashful, small curve. A deep red permeated his cheeks. And Simmons was aware that eyes didn't burn that bright in real life, but god damn, his shined like molten gold in an afternoon sun. He response was coy, his voice small compared to how he was just talking. "I know what you mean."

Simmons voice was just as tiny, and he leaned in closer. "You too?"

"Yeah." It was quiet for a second, before Grif brought them both back to the real world. "How much time do we have?"

"About an hour an a half. Luckily, the church is pretty close to us this time." Simmons leaned back and ran his hand through his hair. "But, if we do this right, we'll be able to get there early and find out where they're putting all the food." Simmons chuckled at that. "Honestly it might be one of the only things I'll be looking forward to-"

"Actually." Grif closed the space the two of them, pushing his lover up against the counter. "I might need you to help me with my tie."

"What are you talking about? It looks fine."

Grif leaned in closer, almost touching their noses together. "I'm asking you to mess it up for me." His eyelids lowered, and that trademark grin appeared as he watched Simmons's mouth and cheeks go flush.

"Oh." Simmons tone quickly went from bemused to understanding as Grif snaked his arms around his waist. After a tense second of Simmons recalling every time Grif had flirted like this and every time before when he had felt obligated to deny him, he grinned back at Grif.

He pulled the tie out of his collar, and used it to pull Grif into a kiss.

They arrived at the wedding. Really, that's all that could be said about it. They didn't get there early, that's for damn sure. And from the way that Simmons hair had gone from nicely combed to "I literally just ran my hands through my hair in the car", they didn't arrived 100 percent pristine to the ceremony either. But they made it at a decent time, and they still had all of their clothes on, so they decided the odds were still in their favor. They would need those odds too, if they were going to pull off their plan at the reception successfully.

But if this plan was like any other one that they had come up with before, they would need help. One loose end would most definitely lead to another explosion. So, Simmons asked the one person that he knew who was so outlandish in her nature that she would jump right on board.

"Are you crazy? Why would I even 'try' that?" Or so he thought. Kaikana glared at Simmons. He fidgeted, searching for a reason why she would even try that. It didn't make any sense to ask her to persuade the bride and groom to manipulate part of their wedding just for the sake of a couple they hardly knew. Finding no reasoning to latch onto, he resorted to appealing to emotion.

"For the sake of love?"

Kai's expression didn't change. "Sorry, that's not gonna work. Besides, you already have your own business to take care of. The bet's still in place."

"I know that-" Simmons protested, but was cut off by Kai.

"So why are you so up-in-arms about a completely different couple?" That stopped Simmons, because in a way she was right. Damn her and her brother, smarter than they make themselves out to be. It's no wonder they manage to have so many friends while pulling off the bare minimum in their lives. He mused over what their parents must be like, before he remembered that he still had a mission to carry out.

"That's a great question." Simmons paused for dramatic effect. "I have no idea."

Kai's face twitched a bit. She crossed her arms, and stared Simmons down. "Okay. What you're telling me," don't let anyone tell you a Grif couldn't stare you down, "is that you need me to manipulate a flying bouquet of flowers so a specific person can catch them, which mind you is not the easiest thing to do, so that you can set up your friend with a someone he's known for less than two months."

"Yes." Simmons nodded. He was nothing if not determined for this to work.

Kai's stare was impermeable, impenetrable, and just plain hard to ignore. Seconds ticked by as guests had started to move around them to sit in pews and others were reminding them that there was a wedding about to take place and maybe they should take their seats. "I don't know, Simmons. This is too risky for hardly any payoff. Even for me." She went to take her seat, and Simmons explored the back reaches in his brain for an idea, any idea.

Simmons ventured further, and struck oil. "What about a counterbet?"

"What have you been doing?" Grif asked Simmons as they both settled around the buffet table. Simmons absentmindedly chewed on some pineapple as he scanned the room.

"Giving back." He replied, tossing a couple fruit-covered toothpicks in his mouth at the same time. "When are they supposed to do the 'bride tossing the bouquet' thing?"

"In a few minutes." Grif said through a mouthful of food. "Hey," he tapped Simmons on the arm, "do you think this will actually work?"

"Don't worry 'bout it." Simmons replied. He tossed a couple more pieces of food in his mouth. "I've got all my bases covered." He glanced over to Kai, who was waiting patiently as the other female guests started to gather around in a small group. He wiped his mouth, and gave Grif a wily smirk. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck." Grif said with a smirk of his own.

Simmons made his way over to Donut first. He hovered close to the outside of the group, chatting with a few of the bridesmaids. Carefully, he put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey there!"

Donut turned around, his face aglow. "Simmons!" Simmons allowed himself to be embraced tightly. "It's so good to see you!"

"You too! How is Doc?"

Donut paused, and blushed. "He's good. You know, I didn't expect us to click as well as we do, but..." he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "he just gets me. Do you know what I mean?"

Simmons looked at Donut fondly. "As a matter of fact, I do." Behind Donut, the crowd cheered, and Simmons moved quickly around Donut.

"Oh boy, I should probably move-"

"Can you stay right here, actually? I wanted to get a picture of you and Doc." He stammered, glancing over at the crowd. Kai stood towards the front, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Donut bought in, and called Doc over just in time for the bride to turn around. She executed a few pretend tosses, riling up the bridesmaids and other guests behind her. Simmons could practically see Kai tense up, muscles coiling like she was ready compete in the Olympics. Doc settled in close to Donut, just as the bouquet flew into the air. Time sped up, giving Simmons less than a second to turn around and see Kai's hand touch the flowers.

He had even less time to watch her hand bounce the bouquet back, straight into Donut's hands. There was a loud cheer as both Donut and Doc registered what had just happened. Catching it was a reflexive action. Realizing that what he just caught meant so much more. Donut looked at Simmons, more surprised than confused, and turned to Doc. They stared at each other in a way that Simmons recognized all too well, before Donut bashfully looked back at the flowers, his face embarrassed but happy.

Simmons felt Kai's hand clap him on the back, and they both beamed at each other. "Well, what do you know. Your asinine scheme worked." Donut and Doc were too wrapped up in each other to notice Kai's statement, or notice that Kai slipped him some of the bet money she had promised (she had bet it wouldn't work, and Simmons had bet that he was always right; a triple whammy if you considered an ego boost as a prize).

"What can I say, I'm just that good." He replied smugly. As the group moved around the new center of attention, Simmons caught a sight near the one wall of the room. He slipped out from around the people, giving Kai a quick wave. "I'll be right back. I need to do something."

Kai nodded, champagne already in hand to retoast. "Have fun, loverboy." She grinned. "You've earned it."

Grif smiled as Simmons walked in. He leaned on the edge of the balcony. Simmons looked towards where Grif was staring, and saw nothing but more forest. "Hey, you."

"Hey." Grif replied, his eyes never once leaving the view in front of them.

"Not one for partying?" Simmons asked. It wasn't rare to see Grif hide himself away when things got too loud. But it was uncommon to find him all by himself, the natural born extrovert that he was.

"Not yet." Simmons walked over the balcony next to Grif. As much as the sights outside seemed to ensnare Grif, Simmons found his eyes wandering and distracted. After a moment, Grif spoke barely above a whisper. "Do you see it? At the end of the mountain?"

"See what?" His eyes focused harder this time. He searched where Grif pointed, and found a small, familiar building in the woods.

"The apartment." Recollecting the view from Grif's windows, he suddenly understood. This was the same forest that surrounded their home. In fact, if it weren't for the trees, they probably wouldn't have had to drive to the church at all. Simmons felt a rush of childlike excitement. "You can see our house from here!"

Grif laughed a little. "Yeah, you can." He balanced his chin in his hand, now staring at every part of the view. "Hmmm."

Simmons glanced at Grif's pensive expression. "What is it?"

"There was a part of this town. One of the reasons why I loved it so much." Grif squinted, seemingly irritated. "I'm waiting for it."

"Waiting for what?" As he was asking this, the lights from the reception hall dimmed. No doubt there was some sort of slow dance going on. Simmons wanted to ask Grif if he wanted to join everyone, when he felt Grif tug on his jacket. "There." He pointed upwards at the sky.

"Whoa." The word came as barely audible. It was true that Simmons had never truly looked at the sky around the apartment. For the longest time, he disregarded it as something that belonged to those who lived in the plains, or at somewhere as far from artificial light as Hawaii. Thousands of stars, scattered and nearly overlapping, like dust sprinkled on the night sky. The light had dimmed just enough to show what Simmons usually overlooked. Had this always been here? The trees and mountains made sense now. As boring as they seemed, they blocked out the lights that hid varying sizes of stars that reached Earth despite the great distance that separated them.

"I do miss home." Grif said. "There is only so much you can take with you." His eyes glittered, but whether that was the stars' reflection or his own glimmer was a mystery. "Imagine how happy I was when I found the same sky in an entirely new place."

The sounds from the celebration behind them dulled in Simmons's head, as did everything other than what he was seeing before him. Grif's head lifted off of his palm, and rested itself on Simmons's shoulder. The lights above both of them continued to glow unearthly bright. And for the first time, in a very, very long time, Simmons saw something new. And it changed everything.

"I had spent so long inside of my own head, I almost forgot everyone around me." Grif didn't speak, his head still rested comfortably on Simmons's shoulder. "How long?"

"Years, a decade." Grif confessed. "The first time I met you. When you had approached me first, out of all the people that you could have talked to. All the people that liked the things you did. Everyone who would have accepted you so easily, the genius that you were." Grif nuzzled in closer. "You came to me, and you stayed. Even when you didn't have to, you did." He swallowed, not ready for the emotion that he was conveying to break loose all at once. He let small streams of secrets trickle out, lessening the pressure in his chest little by little. "I say a decade, 'cause it might have been longer. Didn't even know until about 4 years ago."

"4 years." Simmons breathed out. How long to wait for someone who lived with denying the entire world. How long to watch the one person that you love and not understand why sometimes they just pushed you away, or acted like they weren't worthy enough when you had seen time and time again how worthy they were. 4 years.

Grif was whispering now. "Somehow, this still feels like a daydream. That I've just slipped into fantasies, and that I'll come back eventually." He lifted his head up off of Simmons's, and gazed up at the stars that were being hidden again by the rising lights of the hall behind them. "I used to think of you like I thought of Hawaii."

The music booming from the doorway had stopped. The sound of chairs clattering and people saying their goodbyes filled the air, but neither Grif nor Simmons moved. Gently, Simmons reached over and held onto Grif's hand. "Grif?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's go home."

From the edge of the horizon, Grif swore that he could see the entire world laid out in front of him. He held tightly onto Simmons's hand, and turned to stare into Simmons's eyes. People will tell you that eyes shouldn't glimmer and gleam with a spark all their own, that there was no light or stars in there.

Grif knew without a shadow of a doubt, that Simmons's bright green gaze would prove them wrong every damn time.


End file.
